


Comfort

by Neonbat



Series: SPN kink Bingo 2018 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is settling into humanity a bit strangly, Castiel is alive, Frotting, Hints of struggling bi dean, Human Castiel, M/M, SPN Kink Bingo 2018, Scent Kink, Season 12 finale divergence, Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 10:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14809784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neonbat/pseuds/Neonbat
Summary: Dean is starting to notice Castiel is borrowing some of his shirts, and he can't figure out why. Cas has always been a little weird here and there, but he could have never guessed Castiel's interest on this one.





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> First square of my Bingo filled! >:D

There were certain things Dean noticed about Cas since his grace began trickling away two months ago. The obsession with peanut butter and jelly or burritos wasn’t that much of a shocker; a man had to eat. Or Castiel’s evolving love for searing-hot showers that tested even the bunker’s ample tanks.

No, what surprised him was Cas developing a love for his shirts. Namely, shirts after Dean had _worn_ them.

And yeah maybe there was something going on there, but Dean Winchester hadn’t gotten where he was today by opening dialogues about things that he’d ignored for years.

Ganking a shirt or two from the laundry Dean could let slide, but there were other more…invasive signs that something was going on upstairs with Cas that Dean wanted to get to the bottom of.

“You good over there?” Dean leaned against the doorway, peering into the tv den with two beers in his hand, one he was nursing from.

Castiel looked up, dropping the bunched fabric of the T-shirt back against his chest. His cheeks colored, caught red-handed sniffing the ancient Led Zepplin tour T by its owner. “Yes,” Castiel answered simply, slowly unfurling his legs from the lounge chair to the floor.

Dean crossed the room, dropping into his chair with a grunt. “Here.” He passed the spare beer off, even though he knew Castiel wasn’t big on the taste. It would grow on him in time.

“Oh, thank you.” Cas accepted it anyway, taking a small sip and biting down the initial scrunch-face he had to the past five Dean gave him.

 Dean let silence lapse for a little while, watching the boring nature documentary Castiel had on with a faint smirk. It was fitting. It was Cas.

“So, what’s with the shirts?” Dean finally asked, pausing half-way through his brew to cast a small glance at the rapidly humanizing angel beside of him.

Castiel stilled, lips pressed poised against the amber bottle. Maybe it was Dean’s imagination, but Cas’ lips looked pinker than usual lately. Like humanity was warming him from the inside out. 

“I…find them comforting. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I can return them if you wish.” He answered with a sheepish glance, tugging at the hem of the shirt with a self-conscious pluck.

Castiel looked good outside of the holy-tax-occupant look he’d rocked since the dawn of time. The wild hair and scruff combo didn’t look half bad either. He looked comfortable, which was a feat for someone Dean described as having a permanent stick up his ass for the past ten years.

Dean remembered the first time around when he’d seen Castiel human before he had to turn him out on his ass just because that dick Gadreel told him so. He’d made a damn mistake then, but he was trying to make up for lost time now. Lucifer could have killed Cas. Hell, he almost did.

He’d give baby-lucifer a pass, if only because Jack had saved Castiel from burning out. Cas was left with a little grace, but it was fading day by day.

“No man, it’s cool. Whatever you need.” Dean stood, intent on checking to see how Sam’s ‘lessons’ were going with Jack. “Dinner’s in thirty. Made meatloaf.” He reached to pat Castiel on the shoulder as he passed, missing the quiet look the falling angel gave him as he passed.

 

 

* * *

 

One thing he enjoyed about having a base of operation was getting to have a steady room to work out in. He’d gained a bit of weight around the middle, so sue him, age did that to a man. Still, with Sam running all the time and Castiel’s love for nature walks, he was starting to feel like the fat kid at prom.

He was soaked through after his fifth rep, and his arms were nearing critical mass. Groaning, he holstered the weights back on the bar and flopped against the weight bench to pant like the beached whale he felt like. This crap didn’t use to be so hard, not that he’d hit the gym regularly when he was younger but hunting and being on the run constantly was a great diet plan. Domestic life was making him its bitch.

Dean sat up, nearly startling out of his boots when he spotted Castiel hovering in the doorway.

“Damn man, want to get me in an early grave?” Shaking his head, he rose, fishing his sweat towel off the end of the bench and dragging it over his face and upper body not covered by his ribbed tank. “What’s up?”

He was going to pretend he wasn’t aware of Castiel stealing an obvious once-over, conscious of the weight of Castiel’s eyes on him like a blue spotlight.

“I…I’m starting a load of laundry and wanted to inquire if you had anything that needed washing.” Castiel motioned to the bag of laundry set by his feet, eyes flicking off before he let his eyes linger on the bead of sweat meandering down Dean’s right temple.

“Oh, uh, just this stuff. Hold on.” Dean set his towel aside and hooked his fingers under the band of his shirt and peeled it off, grimacing at how much it stuck to him. He had to get his ass in here more so he didn’t end up a ragged, out of breath old man sweating through his layers more than he already was.

Castiel didn’t make a move to come into the room further, in fact, he just stayed hovering in the door, wide-eyed that Dean had just half-stripped in front of him. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other shirtless before, they were all guys here, but Cas had never seen Dean strip without being covered in blood or gore.

Seeing that Castiel wasn’t going to walk any closer and Dean still had to get his water and phone, Dean shrugged and gathered the towel and shirt.” Head’s up.” He chucked them, smirking faintly when Castiel’s hands snapped out to catch the sodden bundle. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel visibly swallowed, “Of course, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

Not being able to sleep was a normal thing in the bunker. Jack rarely slept as it was, Sam tended to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to run, and Cas was a hit or a miss. Tonight, was Dean’s turn to pace the halls restlessly, woken early but the unpleasant memory of ‘That Night’ that he couldn’t think of without addressing it like Voldemort. Even knowing Cas was alright, there was still Mom being trapped with Lucifer to worry about.

He shuffled down the hall towards the kitchen, intent on keeping his title as a premature old man going by fixing some chocolate milk and tipping a bit of rum into the mix, because why the fuck not?

An errant noise stilled his shuffling, brows furrowing. He backed up a few paces, realizing the noise had come from Castiel’s bedroom. He leaned a little, intent on knocking before another vocalization froze his hand.

That…That was definitely a groan. It could have been a nightmare groan. It was totally a nightmare groan. Dean swallowed, shaking his head lightly as he gathered himself. The fuck was he thinking? This was Cas here, not-

“ _Dean_.”

Oh. Oh fuck. That had been his name moaned on Cas’ lips. So maybe it wasn’t a nightmare groan, not when the moan accompanied the sound of a body sliding on the bed or a choked hitch in Castiel’s breath.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, a flood of heat pouring into his veins with an intensity that sent his vision swimming. Castiel was in there, panting his name and Dean had no idea what to do with that information.

He hadn’t even known Castiel was _inclined_ like that. Cas had mentioned losing his virginity to a woman, making out with Meg that time, and being married to a woman in his alter-self-Emanuel, Dean had just assumed.

Dean wasn’t going to lie; he’d looked at Cas a couple of times. But that’s all he ever did. _Look_. That’s all he ever did with men. He could appreciate a hot guy without being, you know, gay or whatever. Or Bi, Charlie had liked to say he was bi, but Dean never really thought much about it. It was too complicated to add to his life. It wasn’t like he had a problem with gay people, but that was just another layer of _something_ that Dean wanted to avoid. He already had enough on his plate without adding more emotional baggage.

Or at least, so he thought.

“ _O-oh._ ” Cas was in there moaning like a pornstar, and blood was pumping hard enough to pound in Dean’s ears the longer he listened. A surge of raw lust built itself in Dean’s groin, and he reached to part his robe and palm himself through his boxers.

He was opening the door before he could think it through.

Castiel was stretched out on his bed, a mess of pajamas and sheets, hard cock craning against his olive stomach. He looked wrecked and worse still; he was pressing the towel Dean used earlier in the day for his workout against his face, breathing deep. A bead of precome pooled on his tip where Castiel fisted his erection, shuddering a stuttered sigh into the towel.

“H-holy shit.” Goddamn his mouth, But Dean couldn’t see _that_ without blaspheming.

Castiel sat upright with a startled gasp, wide-eyed and quick to cover himself.” -Dean?” Even his hair was messier than usual, sex-hair perfect and cheeks flushed with arousal. Dean’s look and not touch policy felt abruptly idiotic.

The longer he stared, the more he raked his eyes on Castiel’s body, the deeper the confusion on the ex-angel’s face grew.

“…Dean?” Cas asked again, chewing on the inside of his lip. “I didn’t mean to- If you’re angry I understand…I—Dean?”

Dean crossed the small space to Castiel’s bed in three quick strides, and knelt a knee, dipping the mattress to reach out and card his fingers through the chaos of Castiel’s hair.”Jesus Cas, do you even know what you look like right now?”

There was a hint of trepidation in the confusion now, “I, I don’t understand. You’re not angry with me?”

Dean huffed a thick laugh, “No Cas; I’m not mad. But…I gotta ask, what’s going on lately. The shirts and now this?” His fingernails scraped against Castiel’s scalp, and Cas’ eyes fluttered with a quiet hitched inhale.

“I-I said I liked the way you smell. Since I fell, I find I can smell things differently, less molecules more…just _more_ , and you smell the best.” Castiel mumbled, looking up at him with pupils blown wide. Wanting. “It was comforting at first but…It, it is admittedly, very arousing also.”

How the hell had he not noticed that before? Dean could curse himself being that oblivious, but damn if he wasn’t glad he had a shitty night to lead him to this. “You like the way I smell?” Castiel nodded lightly in his hold, and Dean’s other hand reached to slowly pull the stolen towel from Castiel’s lap, revealing Cas’ arousal to him. “Damn, I can see that.”

Castiel still looked so lost, scared that Dean was going to cast him away. It broke his heart a little that after all this time Cas could still think that, even if it was kind of understandable by now. And yeah, this was new, _very_ new, but Dean wasn’t an old dog opposed to learning new tricks. Cas was more than his best friend; he was an integral part of his life that Dean couldn’t fathom ever being missing.

He was _Cas_ goddammit.

His hand closed around Castiel’s straining length, and immediately Cas bucked in his hold with a punched-out huff. “That’s it.” The hand holding Cas’ hair tugged back, forcing their eyes to meet once more.

Dean surged into the kiss, claiming and nibbling at Castiel’s criminally pink lips. Seconds later Castiel reached out and pulled the robe from his shoulders with a greedy groan, fingernails trailing down the length of his scarred, freckled upper body.

Castiel got to his boxers and tugged them down, baring his growing length to the cool bunker air without preamble. The powder keg accumulating from years of sheer idiocy was about to ignite, and there was no fighting it now.

They fell back into Castiel’s bed, all desperate hands and mouths. Dean wrestled Castiel out of his pajamas, tearing the flannel in the process. He didn’t care. They could go to Walmart and buy another pair because if he didn’t get Castiel naked _right now,_ he might just have to rip them off with his teeth.

“Dean,” Castiel sighed, hands snaking up to tug Dean down closer to him until he could bury his nose in the crook of his shoulders. “You smell like earth and sunshine. Like leather and sweat.” He purred, nuzzling into his skin like there was catnip instead of freckles there.

Dean flushed, faintly embarrassed to hear Castiel praise him that much. Earth and Sunshine? That was…that was different.

A press of his hips against Castiel’s got them back on track, the slide of hot flesh slightly overwhelming. Neither of them had gotten any action lately, more so for Castiel who was never prone to ‘action’ to start with. Dean was glad Cas was keyed up so much already because the rate this was going he was going to pop off embarrassingly fast. He felt like his skin was on fire, stoked by every touch, hell every _sniff_ from Castiel below him.

“Lick.” Dean pressed a palm to Castiel’s mouth, and after a brief puzzled scrunch, Castiel complied. His tongue flicked out, coating Dean’s palm in slick with sinful passes of his tongue- and oh god did Castiel have a tongue, one that Dean was going to fantasize about licking up his cock until they could make that a reality.

As soon as he was satisfied, he snaked his hand between them, and closed a fist around their pressed dicks, cussing roughly at the searing heat Castiel’s length left against his. No wonder every creature, demon, and Big Bad was after Castiel’s cock, it was downright perfect.

Castiel was chanting his name like a prayer underneath him, hips fucking up into the tunnel of Dean’s wet fist. Every desperate pop of his hips dragged his tip against Dean’s, and soon it was all Dean could do to keep himself leaned over Castiel on his free forearm. If there was ever incentive to hit the gym more, it was this.

“D-dean, I’m going to—” Castiel whined below, a tone that would be a little hilarious to hear from an ex-soldier of god if it wasn’t so hot to hear that deep, gravelly voice of his mewling that sweetly.

Castiel spilled first, coming into the channel of Dean’s fist in thick, neglected spurts that left them both soaked and sticky. The combined twitch of Cas’ dick and slick snapped the cord twining in Dean’s gut, and with a breathless shout, he came. He painted Castiel’s lower stomach in four hard spurts, pooling into the valley of Castiel’s alluring hips, leaving a gleam against his hipbone that Dean was sorely tempted to taste if it wasn’t such a struggle to keep himself from collapsing on top of Castiel.

He flopped to the side, sucking in hard breaths as Castiel wrestled himself back to earth beside him. When he was finally able to see straight (and boy did he get the irony of that wording), he reached down and picked up the sweat-towel, smirking softly as he used it to mop off the mess on their bodies.

“I uh…I like the way you smell too, Cas.” Sure, maybe that wasn’t the most romantic thing ever, but Castiel knew what he meant.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For more information, requests, or updates, go to: http://neonbat666.tumblr.com/ and search #Neon-writes or #Neon Write


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